


Outward Bound

by Janina



Series: Bound & Gagged Sansa [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Jon is having a mental breakdown, Jon is tired, Jon just wants to be done, Romance, Sansa gets tied up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 10:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18736894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina
Summary: After the Battle for Winterfell, Jon is just done with it all. All he wants is Sansa, peace, and quiet. Knowing she won't come willingly, he ties her up and attempts to take her away.





	Outward Bound

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is. It's probably not at all what was wanted, but this was what came to me. Jon is not so dark as he is just really effing tired and just DONE. No smut in this chapter because, well, it didn't feel right. But I've gotten tons of requests for Bound & Gagged Sansa on Tumblr, so look for more here!

He was tired of it. Fucking tired. He didn’t want to do this anymore. No more battles. No more fighting. No more fucking politics. No more mentions of the Iron Throne, no more talks of heirs and crowns, and all the shit that went along with it. 

He wanted peace and quiet. 

And Sansa. 

Peace and quiet and Sansa. 

The battle was over. The Night King was defeated - Gods bless Arya - and now he was expected to go South and what - ? Fight in another war against another power-hungry Queen so that his aunt and the biggest mistake of his life could take that bloody coveted Throne? 

He didn’t want it, that was for damn sure. 

Peace. Quiet. Sansa. 

So now, while men outside were dragging bodies from Winterfell and burning them on the grounds outside, Jon packed a bag. 

And then grabbed some rope on his way to Sansa’s bedchamber. 

xxxxx

Sansa woke with a start and sat up in bed, reaching for the dagger she’d placed under her pillow beside her. She thrust it out without thinking. 

The dead couldn’t have come back, could they? They were gone. Dead. They’d just...stopped. Had she dreamed it?

“Sansa. It’s me.”

She blinked into the darkness, her eyes now focusing on the figure across the room. “Jon?”

“Aye.”

“What are you doing?”

He came over, dropping a leather bag down on the bed. “Packing you a bag,” he said.

“A bag? I don’t understand.”

“We’re leaving.”

“Why? What’s happened? Is the castle on fire? I told them not to burn any bodies near it.” She scrambled out of the bed, uncaring of the fact that she wore her shift only and hurried to the window. She peered out and didn’t see anything amiss. No fires inside the gates. 

She turned to Jon who was now looking at her. “We’re leaving,” he said. 

“Leaving? To where? Why? Who is coming with us?” 

He came toward her. “I’ll explain everything once you get dressed.”

“Jon, you’re scaring me. Where's Arya? Bran? Brienne?”

“Sansa,” he said, gently now, his hand coming to rest on the side of her face. She wanted to nuzzle into his warm hand, but didn’t. His lips flickered a smile. “I need you to get dressed now. Arya and Bran and Brienne - they’re waiting for us in the stables. Trust me?”

She nodded. She trusted him. Despite his deplorable habit of not listening to _her_ , and kneeling to Queens he should be not kneeling to, she did trust him. He’d saved her after all. Saved her from Ramsay. Fought for Winterfell, trusted her with running it while he was gone doing what he could to protect them all from the horrors of the dead. 

Yes, of course she trusted him. She just wished he’d let her in on things a bit better. 

She hurriedly went behind her screen and changed. She asked him to finish buttoning her up and tried her best not to arch into his hands when she felt them brushing her skin. 

Oh, but she loved him. 

Even though she wasn’t supposed to. 

Even though he was her brother (not _half_ , not at all, not one whit). 

There had to be something wrong with her to love him as she did, but she couldn’t help it. 

And seeing him with the Dragon Queen…

It hurt her fragile heart. Broke it, really, and she hadn’t thought there was anything left to break. 

“Can you tell me something? Anything at all?” she asked him once she was dressed and ready to go. 

He grabbed their bags and held out his hand to her. “Everyone is safe. And we’ll be safe, too.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. That sounded like to different statements. Everyone meaning the people of Winterfell? Their family? But who was the “we” then? The both of them? Or their family?

“Jon--”

“Sansa.”

Sighing, she slipped her hand into his and he pulled her with him out her bedchamber, down the hall, and outside. The cool air jolted her awake and the scent of fire and what she assumed must be burning flesh made her stomach turn over. 

She didn’t want to dwell on all that they could have lost - and all the people they had - Theon, Lyanna Mormont, Edd, all the Dothraki - those poor men! Her family was safe though, all but for Theon, and that was important. 

When they reached the stables, Sansa looked around for everyone, but there was no one but them and horses inside. Jon strapped a saddle to one of the horses followed by their bags and nearby supplies. 

“Where is everyone?” she asked him. “You said they’d be here. Where are they?”

He took his time turning to face her, and when he did, she noticed he had rope in his hands. “I lied.”

“I don’t understand,” she said. 

He took a step toward her. “I lied,” he said again. 

Something about the look in his eyes told her to run and so she turned abruptly and made to run from the stables. She didn’t make it far before Jon’s arm went around her neck. Darkness overcame her. 

xxxxxxx

It took some doing, but Jon managed to get Sansa up on the horse. He pulled some furs stored nearby, and bundled her up from top to bottom, making sure to cover her face. He tied her ankles together and covered them with the furs as well. Gently, he rested her against the back of the horse’s neck while he climbed on behind her and then pulled her back against him. Reaching around her, he bound her hands together with the rope, making sure she could not undo the knots, and then they were off. 

Passing through Winterfell and then into the land beyond where so many men had died, Jon felt his gut twist and his resolve harden. He didn’t want this anymore, and he didn’t want it for Sansa either. She’d had enough. She had fought so hard to get back home and he’d ruined it all by bending the knee to Daenerys. He knew it then, and he knew it now, and while he didn’t regret doing what had to be done for their safety, he was done. He wanted Sansa to have a good life. A happy life. 

With him. 

He loved her so…

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against the furs where her head was. “I’m so sorry for all I did. You were right about everything.” He laughed hollowly. “I can just hear you telling me you knew that all along. I’ll be sure to tell you when you’re awake. I’ll let you have your victory over me.”

Jon didn’t feel he could relax until they passed through Wintertown and made it to the woods. He just needed to get them to White Harbor and from there they could sail off. He had enough dragons to buy them what they needed, and enough supplies to get them through at least a few days of travel on foot. 

When Sansa started to stir, he clutched her against him tightly. He hoped he didn’t have to perform again the move that Tormund had taught him so long ago to make her sleep. 

“Jon?” she asked groggily. 

“Aye.”

And then she stiffened. “It’s all right, Sansa,” he said as soothingly as he was able. “You are safe. _We_ are safe.”

The fur fell away and down to her shoulders and she held up her hands. “You tied me up! Why have you tied me up?!”

“Sansa, love, I need you to calm down.”

“I’m not going to calm down, Jon, when you have tied me up and taken me from my home. You lied to me. What in the seven are you doing?!”

She kicked out with her legs and gasped. “And my legs! You tied my legs!” She looked up at him, her blue eyes full of betrayal. He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t see that look in her eyes - it was the look she wore when he rode up beside Daenerys. It hurt then, and it hurt now. And it hurt doubly so because he deserved it. 

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. 

“I had to get us away,” he rasped. “I can’t do it anymore. I can’t make you do it either.”

“Do what?” she demanded.

“Fight for our home and our lives. It never fucking ends, and I need it to fucking end!”

She went silent, staring into the forest. 

“The horse needs some rest,” he said softly. “And so do we.”

The horse slowed to a stop. “Sansa.”

She looked up at him, her eyes bright with tears. He couldn’t bear it. He moaned and buried his face in her neck, breathing deep and trying unsuccessfully not to shed tears of his own. He couldn’t stop them though. He shuddered as he sobbed thinking of how close they’d all come to dying. How he could have lost Sansa without her ever knowing how he felt and what the truth was. 

“Jon,” she said softly. “I can’t - I can’t hold you.”

He lifted his head. “Do you want to, after all I’ve done?”

She nodded, her expression one of sympathy and not judgment. Somehow that was worse. How could she want to comfort him after all the trouble he’d heaped on her shoulders?

But he had to be sure…

“You won’t run?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “I won’t run.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t make it very far if I tried anyway.”

That was true.

He untied her wrists and she winced as she rolled and rubbed them. He lifted her hands and inspected them, there was a ring of red around her wrists. “I’m sorry,” he said mournfully. 

She didn’t say she accepted his apology; she just sighed. 

He climbed down while she gripped the saddle for balance and he undid her ankles. He helped her down and held onto her while she tried to stand and walk properly. 

“It won’t be comfortable to sleep on the ground, but there’s nothing we can do about that,” he said, as he pulled two bed rolls off the horses saddle. 

“Jon, what is your plan then? For us. What is your plan for us?” she asked calmly. 

“To get us to White Harbor. From White Harbor we’ll sail to Lys.” He worked on preparing their camp as he spoke. “I’ve got dragons. Enough to last us a while.”

“I see. And what of Arya and Bran?”

Jon dropped the furs onto the bed rolls and faced her. “Arya has proven her ability to take care of herself and Bran. They also have Brienne.”

“And what do you imagine will happen when Daenerys realizes you are gone in the morning?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed a fist against his forehead. “I don’t care, Sansa! I don’t care what she thinks or what she does!” he shouted. “I don’t want to fight anymore. And definitely not for her to sit on that throne! I don’t believe in her. You were right, you have always been right. I don’t know how to play the game and I’m not bloody good at it. I did what I thought I had to, to get her army and her dragons. If I didn’t, we wouldn’t have had the men and those awful beasts to help. I let her think I loved her and I don’t, Sansa, I bloody well don’t. I never did.”

She came forward slowly and cradled the side of his face with her gloved hand. “I know, Jon. I figured it out.”

“You’re smarter than all of us,” he breathed. “Smarter than me. I admit it.”

“Do you remember when you left for Dragonstone and I told you that you had to play the game smarter than Robb and Father?”

“Yes,” he whispered. 

“You did. You deduced what she wanted - you and your loyalty and your bent knee - and you gave it to her. You got her to come North with her army and her dragons to fight what she called _your_ fight. You made her believe she had you but she never did.”

He shook his head adamantly. “No, she never had me. Never.” He gripped her hands. “Sansa - I - there’s something I have to tell you.”

“Yes?”

“I’m not - I’m not a Stark--”

“And what have I told you? You are to me.”

“No, I mean - I’m only half-Stark. I’m also half-Targaryen.”

She blinked. “Pardon?”

“Sam told me about my mother and father. Gilly found the information in a book and Bran confirmed it with him. My mother was Aunt - my mother was Lyanna. My father was Rhaegar Targaryen. Daenerys is my aunt, Sansa. And I told her before the Army of the Dead came. She wasn’t happy about it.”

“I...can’t imagine she would be,” Sansa said, gripping his hands. He could practically see her mind working out this new bit of information. “Jon,” she gasped. “You’re my cousin.”

“Aye.”

He’d thought of that already. How he and Sansa weren’t brother and sister. How his feelings for her weren’t completely twisted. How they could be actualized if he ever worked up the nerve to tell her how he felt and she reciprocated. 

He ducked his head. It was too much to hope for. Too much to ask for. They’d been raised as siblings. She would never think of him like that. She would think he was sick for even --

“I’m not sick,” she said, sounding surprised. 

“What?” he asked. 

Her eyes went wide and she made to pull away, but Jon held her hands tight. “Sansa, what do you mean you’re not sick?”

She looked afraid and oh so vulnerable and Jon couldn’t bear it. He’d hurt her so much…

He swallowed and gathered his courage. He could take up his sword and fight if he had to, but this...this… “I love you, Sansa. I love you not as my sister, but as a man loves a woman. I have for so long--”

“I love you, too,” she breathed. “I have for so long, too.”

He pulled her closer, studied her. “Sansa, do you mean it? Do you truly mean it?”

She nodded. “I do, Jon. I love you. I really do.”

He couldn’t stop himself from kissing her. His lips crashed down upon hers, and then a second later, he pulled back. “I’m sorry. I should have asked--”

She grabbed him by his furs and yanked him down to her, kissing him passionately. Jon responded in kind, his heart soaring, his nerves calming. 

This was real. This was happening. This was not some fevered dream. His arms went around her and held her close against him. He felt like he couldn’t get her close enough and she laughed, parting the kiss. He chased her lips and captured them again with his own, and moaned with relief. With a dream and a hope and a wish realized. 

“We’ll go to Lys,” he whispered when he broke the kiss. He kept her close, not wanting to relinquish her. He never wanted to let her go and he never would. “We’ll go to Lys and change our names. No one ever need know--”

“Jon,” she said gently. She shook her head. “No.”

He felt her drawing away from him and he held her fast. “What do you mean no?” he growled. “We’ll be safe--”

“No, we won’t be safe. Daenerys will hunt you down for leaving her like that. She’ll blame me for it, and she’ll take it out on Arya and Bran and the North. Jon, we can’t leave.”

He squeezed his eyes shut dropped his head. 

“Come sit with me,” Sansa said gently and pushed him towards the bed rolls. 

Jon sat first and Sansa sat down between his legs and held his hands in her own. He ducked his head, keeping it close to the side of her face. 

“You’ve been through so much, my love,” she murmured as she idly traced his hands with the tip of her finger. “You died. You fought for Winterfell against Ramsey. You were held prisoner at Dragonstone. You dealt all that time with a power-hungry Queen who would not yield to help the very people she wants to rule. And then you came home to battle again.”

He nodded. 

“You’re tired.”

“I’m more than tired, Sansa,” he mumbled. “I don’t want to fight anymore. And I have to keep you safe. From the time I left for Dragonstone - it’s been for you. Everything I’ve done has been for you. And then Bran and Arya…”

“Why did you share none of this with me?”

“I was too afraid. If she found out somehow it could have put you in jeopardy. I couldn’t risk it. Risk you.” He held her close and buried his face in her neck. “You mean too much to me. If you died, I’d die.”

“There will be no more dying for you,” she said firmly, as though giving an order, and he laughed. “And I do not plan on dying either.”

She moved, getting up on her knees and turning to face him. “Jon, you should have told me. I could have helped you with this.”

He reached out, cradling her face in his hands. “I had to keep you _safe_ , Sansa.”

“And you have. Now let me keep you safe, too.”

“How?” he asked despairingly. 

“Lay down,” she murmured and gestured to the bed roll. 

He lay down without question and Sansa lay down beside him, snuggling up to him. He smiled, bent his head and kissed her languidly. “Sansa...” he murmured. “I love you so…”

“And I love you,” she said. “Now listen. We’ll have to return in the morning, but before we do, we’ll have to come up with a plan.”

He smiled. “You have one already, don’t you?”

“I do. Now listen…”

**The End**


End file.
